Wednesday , December 16 , 2009

    Posted by:

    Sarah

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I get the impression, from Shelly's reaction, that this sort of thing has happened before. I wonder how many times it'll have to happen before she realizes that telling people about her sexy roommate's masturbatory habits is probably not a good idea. ~sjh

    Posted by:

    James

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As Sarah mentions, Shelly seems to forget that there are some facets of her life against which the brain of a mere male mortal simply cannot maintain its integrity. Such things as Gina's ostensibly gas-powered plaything are simple annoyances to her, brief and insubstantial ripples in a pool of much more important things. They are a drop, as it were, in the ocean of her business. Kent, on the other hand, is not jaded to the concept and, as such, has nothing to shield himself from it. Thusly, barely-discernable mental eddies begin to build upon one another, heaving and cresting and finally forming a psychological tsunami that dashes his reasoning faculties to flinders on the rocky shores of libidinous fantasy. Any recovery from such an event would require a man of Sisyphean bloody-mindedness to remuster his concentration--returning, to carry the metaphor through, to calm, neutral waters. Kent is obviously not one to follow in the shoes (sandals?) of Sisyphus--though, all things considered, that's probably for the best.

One cannot help one's hormones, I suppose. Unless you're taking hormone treatments, in which case I suppose you can. Or unless you're a Bene Gesserit, or likewise have complete mental control over all your physiological functions. Or unless you, for some strange reason, don't have hormones--like, if you were a silicate-based lifeform akin to a troll. But for most of us, the statement holds true. A qualified truism, then, unfit for assertion in logical argument. Let us leave it at that.

I seem to be in a nautical mood today. If one were predisposed towards truly horrific puns, it could even be ventured that I'm feeling naughtycal. But since none of us are of that disposition, let us move on past it without a second thought.

I wonder often about the fall of the pun as witticism. I mean, Shakespeare--fucking Shakespeare--used puns endlessly for comic effect. I don't even think they've even managed to find all of the examples of such in his work, lo these many centuries later. So, with the backing of Billy the Spoony Bard, I declare now, once and forevermore, that I find punes (or plays on words) to be a perfectly valid avenue of humor, groan-inducing or no. Really, my greatest satisfaction as a writer comes when I can get my audience to simultaneously chuckle and groan--something I have only managed on one occasion, and an occurrence I am someday determined to replicate.

Perhaps soon, hm?

-James